


bravery kept out of sight

by julie_slamdrews



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Post-Finale, all aboard the angst bus, hicsqueak pre-relationship, they're still figuring it out, we all know they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie_slamdrews/pseuds/julie_slamdrews
Summary: As it happens, Pippa Pentangle has recently joined the extremely short list of people who Hecate can tolerate at parties. Nobody can salvage this one though.OrPippa arrives at Cackle's in the aftermath of the S2 finale.





	bravery kept out of sight

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write something cute to process my feelings after the S2 finale and then a lot of angst happened, but I guess I kind of achieved my aims? Also I hate writing dialogue but these witches wanted to do A LOT of talking so I rolled with the punches.

The Cackle’s Halloween festivities have never been more raucous. After their challenging day, students and staff alike need to relax and let their hair down.

Although she has on more than one occasion been accused of being allergic to fun, Hecate understands the need to celebrate. She just doesn’t necessarily share it.

On a good day she can tolerate parties, enjoy them even if the guest list is right. Today, the music and laughter are too loud, the lights too bright.

She searches the room for Ada. She needs to get out of here, but she owes it to the headmistress at least to say goodnight. As she scans the room a blur of pink zooms past the window and the girls, already wound to the point of hysteria, erupt with excitement.

“It’s Miss Pentangle!” Felicity exclaims, fighting to be front and centre of the welcoming hoard. “Isn’t she just perfect?”

As it happens, Pippa Pentangle has recently joined the extremely short list of people who Hecate can tolerate at parties. Nobody can salvage this one though, and as the thundering of her heart begins to drown out even Miss Bat’s caterwauling she knows it is time to make her exit.

She finally spots Ada, deep in conversation with Algernon about the different varieties of frogspawn. Rudeness be damned she thinks, and flicks her wrist to transfer. Except it doesn’t quite go to plan. Instead of in her chambers, she finds herself on the witchball court of all places.

It’s not unusual, she tells herself desperately. Transference spells might look easy but they require an extraordinary amount of focus and should not be performed in a state of panic. Still, the failure of her magic today of all days leaves her chest tight and her vision spotted with black. She stumbles forward, presses her trembling palms to the wall and forces air into her lungs. Tries to take comfort in the stone beneath her fingers, real and solid and not frozen.

It works, eventually, and she turns to lean against the wall, planning her next move. The idea of attempting another transference spell is absurdly frightening and the only way back to her chambers on foot involves passing the hall full of revelling students. She is still pondering this dilemma when a pink-clad figure appears with a flourish on the other side of the court.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were avoiding me,” Pippa says teasingly as she approaches.

“What makes you think you do know better?” Hecate replies.

Pippa purses her lips, considering. “You’re still here.”

Hecate can’t deny that, nor can she honestly say that the only reason she’s still standing beside Pippa is her newly developed and utterly ridiculous fear of transference spells. Not for the first time, she wishes she were as good at being alone as she purports to be, or perhaps better at asking not to be. Right now, with Pippa close enough to reach out and touch, she thinks it’s the latter.

They stand silently for a while, unsaid words stacking up in the column of Hecate’s throat, until Pippa shivers violently. The school may not be encased in ice, but it is still October and the air is frigid.

“Shall we go inside?” She asks. Panic claws at Hecate again.

 “I…I don’t know…” She jerks a hand in the direction of their surroundings, hoping Pippa will guess at the words she cannot dare to voice.

Pippa’s hand closes around hers. “You weren’t top of the class every year for nothing,” she says, just a hint of bitterness colouring her reassuring tone. “You cast, I’ll redirect us if we go off course.”

Hecate closes her eyes, focusing on the spell in a way she hasn’t since…well probably since Pippa Pentangle last held her hand. When she opens them again they are standing in her chambers and Pippa is beaming at her with pride and fondness and something else that she doesn’t have the energy to decipher right now. Their hands are still linked and Hecate can’t bring herself to let go. She is teetering on the edge of composure and the contact seems to be all that keeps her from unravelling completely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pippa asks.

Hecate shakes her head. She doesn’t know truthfully if she does or she doesn’t, doesn’t know if she would have the words if she did. How is it, she wonders, that Pippa has always been able to crack her wide open with a single look, a touch, a word?

“Oh Hiccup,” Pippa says now, and she doesn’t realise until she hears the words and feels Pippa’s arms wrap tight around her, that the first tears have managed to escape. She cries as she always has, silently but with unrelenting ferocity, her entire body shuddering. And through it all Pippa holds fast, whispering that she is safe, that she is loved, that the ordeal is over.

Afterwards she feels spent and humiliated but Pippa’s fond smile is unchanged. They sit together on the bed and Pippa brushes out her hair as if they were back at school, as if the past thirty years had never happened.

“It’s all I am,” she says suddenly. The brush stills in her hair.

“What is?”

Hecate swallows. She shouldn’t. She isn’t even sure she can. But she wants the words to be out, to stop them circling endlessly in her head.

“Magic,” she says slowly. “The Craft. You said yourself, I was top of the class every year. And now I research the Craft. I teach the Craft. It’s what I’m good at. It’s _all_ I’m good at. And I was going to give it up.”

“To save the school,” Pippa says.

“To save the school,” she agrees. “It would have been worth it, for the girls, for Ada. But…I would have been nothing. Is that really all I am?”

Pippa hauls herself forward to look Hecate in the eyes with an unusually graceless shuffle. “Don’t you see? You believe that you’re nothing without the Craft and you were willing to give it up anyway. That’s because you’re kind. You’re kind and selfless and…the bravest witch I know.”

“Brave?” Hecate splutters. “I was terrified. I’m still terrified. Earlier I was too scared to perform a transference spell, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Bravery is not the absence of fear,” Pippa says firmly. “It’s being prepared to do something that scares you.”

Hecate blinks. “Did you just quote a motivational scroll?”

“I think…” Pippa considers. “Yes, I definitely did. Did it work? Do you believe me?”

“If I say I do will you stop quoting motivational scrolls?”

Pippa laughs, high and delighted, and after a moment Hecate joins in. She isn’t sure that she can quite apply any of Pippa’s adjectives to herself but Pippa can and for now that’s enough.

That look wasn’t just fondness, is her last thought before she drifts off to sleep in Pippa’s arms. Maybe tomorrow she’ll talk to her about it. That really would be brave.


End file.
